


when you're out of time, you're outta line

by lylacs



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Gekijouban Gintama Kanketsu-hen: Yorozuya yo Eien Nare | Be Forever Yorozuya, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Spoilers, The White Plague, so don't read this until you're done with that part, there's like a mention of the shogun assassination arc, who didn't want to hug gintoki halfway through the movie when the truth was revealed, yorozuya is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lylacs/pseuds/lylacs
Summary: It's hard to believe they were something so great once, when now they've been reduced to this. It should be pitiful, for legends to be reduced to near ashes, but Gintoki is not bothered.OrA glimpse of Gintoki during the five year span that occurred in the second movie's, Be Forever Yorozuya, events. With Takasugi.





	

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I've been waiting for a fic about this little theory of mine (based on actual history) for ages, but of course, since that never happened, I decided to just write about it myself. Be Forever Yorozuya was one of the best anime, manga-based movies I've ever watched, and makes me cry no matter how many times I watch it. Because I am clearly Takasugi trash, I was upset when he didn't make an actual appearance, and Zura was replaced in his stead (still hilarious though, as always, but still). I think lots of people have different theories as to what Takasugi was actually doing during the events of the movie, but allow me to share mine. Here, in AO3. 
> 
> I placed M/M here because while the story has the Gen kind of vibe, the relationship between Gintoki and Shinsuke can also be seen as something more than platonic, though that depends entirely on you readers. I am a shipper of Gintaka though. 
> 
> ((I hope my friend doesn't find this because she isn't a fan of Anime!Fics and she might think low of me and I can't))

Gintoki always uses the front door. It could be because he’s too lazy to find the backdoor, or because he’s a polite guy that would like to alert the guests that he’s coming in and entering loudly (not), but whatever reason, he doesn’t bother using the backdoor. Never has, never will.

And besides, it doesn’t seem like any kind of sneaking tactic would work on Takasugi anyway. Front door and outright is the best way to confront him.

Sneaking through Kiheitai’s base isn’t such as hard of a feat as he thought. Then again, the base was probably in better shape before, unlike now, unclean, with dirt piling up by the corners, hallway lights occasionally flickering, and the quiet echoing around the entire area, as if it’s been deserted for a long time, for years. It’s kind of like a horror movie, and while the white-haired perm was once afraid of things that lurked in the dark, the things that appeared in those types of movies, he isn’t anymore.

So he does not falter in his footsteps. There’s a possibility, of course, that he considers: that the place has truly been abandoned and there is no one here, but Gintoki doubts that, for some reason, even though he’s never really kept track of the organization, and that’s enough to keep him moving.

He doesn’t really know how he knows where to go, because all these years haven’t really sharpened his skills at blindly searching, and he’s never been here before, but somehow he takes multiple turns towards multiple identical hallways and comes across a door that his gut tells him is the right one. The door doesn’t look any more different than all the other ones he’s passed by, but it’s the door at the end of the corridor and it gives him one of those final boss battles vibes, which definitely something _he_ would do.

Gintoki’s about to enter, but someone else beats him to it, door sliding open and the blonde-haired girl – the gunslinger girl, he recognizes, she’s still here – appears, about to proceed forward when she sees him.

Her eyes widen and her hands go down to the guns by her waist and Gintoki momentarily contemplates on moving. He doesn’t though, in the end, even when the woman does, guns out and already firing at him.

Gintoki dodges them easily, but she doesn’t hesitate or falter for even a second, continuing to fire. He can tell she’s good at what she does, but he’s only avoiding them so casually because he’s good at what he does too. The sounds and her movement catch the attention of the perverted man back inside the room, the one with large eyes and simple clothing.

“Oi, what are you doing?” The strategist – Henpeita, Gintoki’s pretty sure that’s what he’s called – asks the woman.

“He did.” The blonde – Matako is her name, probably – replies, finally ceasing her fire but not how the guns point straight at Gintoki, expression wary and menacing. “But I’ve never seen him before, especially one with those kinds of clothes, so I don’t trust him one bit.

Gintoki wouldn’t trust anyone who looked like him either, so he wonders what Henpeita is thinking, with that quizzical expression on his face as he looks at Gintoki. The latter moves forward to prevent the door from closing, but he doesn’t take a complete step in. The action makes Matako tense, but Henpeita doesn’t even blink.

“What’s all this commotion for?” A voice demands, and it is one Gintoki immediately recognizes to be Bansai, even though he cannot see the manslayer. What lies beyond or where they all just came from, Gintoki can’t see from this point, but he can tell that this room is a big one, a room that still looks well maintained even when everything else isn’t.

“Intruder.” Matako answers. “A real suspicious one at that.”

“Intruder?” Bansai sounds momentarily surprised. Gintoki hears footsteps, indicating that he’s headed their way. “That’s quite impossible, I daresay. We’ve made sure that no one can find us–” He halts his talking when he finally comes to view and sees Gintoki. Bansai is silent, and Gintoki wonders if that’s because he sees a man dressed strangely or because he’s seeing Sakata Gintoki.

“Kijima,” Bansai starts.

“What?”

“Put the guns down.”

She turns to him in bewilderment. “What? _Why?_ We don’t know him.”

“That’s the Shiroyasha, I daresay.”

 _“Shiroyasha?”_ Matako quickly looks back at Gintoki. “ _That’s_ the Shiroyasha?” Her expression hardens. “What are you doing here? What do you want with Shins–”

“That’s enough.” Bansai interrupts, voice firm. “I will handle things from here, I daresay. Takechi,” he says, looking at the man. “I need you and Kijima to get something for me.”

It takes some time, but eventually Matako and Henpeita leave, and all who remains are Bansai and Gintoki. They’re silent for a while, and Gintoki wonders if the quietness between them is a good thing or a bad one. But Bansai is the first one to break the silence, turning to lean on the wall, headphones, for once, sitting on his shoulders instead of covering his ears.

“There is another room up ahead.” He starts. “That is where he rests, I daresay.”

 _So he’s alive, huh_. Gintoki thinks, and he isn’t really surprised, because he’s figured that out so far, judging from meeting Matako and Henpeita. What does catch him off guard though, is the relief that rests on his realization. “Not scared I’m gonna attack him or anything?”

“I believe that is not why his former comrade has visited this barren place, I daresay.” Bansai replies. “There are much more important things to do than come here. And besides,” Gintoki raises an eyebrow. Bansai’s gaze turns to Gintoki’s glowing red eye, the only part of him that isn’t covered. He still wears his shades, but Gintoki can’t help but think that the other man has peered into his soul and has seen everything. “There is not a single killing intent I sense in you, I daresay.”

What a thing to say, Gintoki muses, and it’s quite amusing, how much Bansai seems to believe in his own words, on the chance that he is right and Gintoki bears no harm. It’s such a bold thing to do, to say aloud, but Gintoki has to agree with him: starting a fight is not his intention.

“How’d you know?” Gintoki asks him instead.

“Your music,” The other man answers, heading for the door that Gintoki starts moving away from. “No matter how much your appearance has changed, no matter how much distorted melodies flowing within your tune, no matter how much time has passed, your song has never truly changed. It’s a remarkable one, I daresay.” And then he walks ahead, and the door shuts.

Gintoki says nothing after that, simply proceeding towards a room that supposedly lies ahead. They’re all a bit older than he thought, when he thinks about the three Kiheitai members as he walks. They still look the same the last time he saw them – which was a year or so, most likely – but there’s some difference to them, too, like the dark circles under Matako’s eyes, more silence from the lolicon, and some finger-drumming done by Bansai that he didn’t seem to have as a habit previously. It’s not like Gintoki knows any of them, because he _doesn’t_ , but still. They seem out of place, for legendary fighters who are – _were_ , who knows – part of a legendary organization. Then again, that thought isn’t so far from himself. Everyone changes eventually.

There are some things, though, that refuse to. Maybe that’s why he’s here in the first place, visiting. To confirm that sliver of doubt, to hope that things are still the same.

Inside the room he enters lies walls painted a dark color that copies all the other ones outside, but these are cleaner, more well-kept, looking recent and new and maintained, like the one where this room stays in. Against the wall is a familiar white bed that looks awfully a lot like a hospital one, and an IV standing beside it, detached from whoever was using it.

And a bit beyond that – a large window and an old comrade ( _comrade_ , it’s amazing that he still uses that term, despite everything), sitting on the ledge, one leg hiked up while the other dangles carelessly. His gaze is not directed at Gintoki, but instead focused on whatever lies past the window.

Gintoki isn’t entirely sure how to approach him, is the thing now. He didn’t really expect any of them to be there, even if his source was reliable, more or less, so now that he’s really here, he’s left wondering what to do now, how to start.

“Bansai,” The man by the window suddenly says. “Back already?” I thought I told you to come back for dinner.”

“Takasugi.” Gintoki finds himself saying in reply. He hasn’t said that name in a long time, though he’s often thought of it. It’s like he wants to taste the name on his tongue, remember how it felt to say it and how to say it with certainty that the man spoken of is still, truly alive.

Takasugi’s head turns towards the unfamiliar voice – a voice changed and altered to the point of being unrecognizable – when he realizes it’s not his subordinate. His sole green eye, Gintoki realizes, looks a bit lighter in color than he remembers it being. “Emmi, huh.” Takasugi says, after a pause, and the way he says it, points it out, _realizes_ it, unsettles the silver-haired man. There is no shock or anger at the sight of an old ghost from the war, an old foe who took away so many lives, caused so much damage. Takasugi may not wear his emotions on his sleeve like Tatsuma does, but he’s terrible at bottling things up. Gintoki’s appearance should have stirred something in him, at least. But there is no hatred or even a hint of sarcastic, sadistic amusement. It’s just . . . flat. “Figured you were the one causing the destruction of the world. I had believed Gintoki annihilated all of you back then, but apparently I was wrong.” Even with those words, he doesn’t sound enlightened or even startled. “Have you come for a token of gratitude, since you’ve done all the work for me? Sorry, but there’s nothing left for me to give.”

The words and emotionless tone that doesn’t fade is what gets Gintoki the most. “Who’d want gratitude from a little shit like you, dammit?” He grumbles, annoyed. His voice becomes his own, or something close to what was once his. It’s something that rarely happens, and he’s glad this time it did.

At least that elicits a reaction out of Takasugi. His eye momentarily widens, realizing who’s talking, before his face portrays an amused expression. “Gintoki?” He says, puffing out smoke from his _kiseru_. “What’s with that outfit? Playing house wasn’t fun anymore, so you went and dressed up to pretend to be like the dead enemy?”

Gintoki could deny that all, for Takasugi’s sake, for his own, if he were selfless and didn’t want anyone he knew and cared about (and he cares about Takasugi, and it’s such a stupid feeling to still have) to find the state he’s been reduced to, to find out the fate he must live with. But Gintoki is a selfish bastard, and it’s because of that selfishness that he’s even here. “I could say the same thing about you.” He replies. “Has revenge against the world become stupid now? Have you finally realized it?”

Some things never change, at least – like the smoking and the isolation and the numerous attempts to look like a cool antagonist, but there are differences, ones that stop Gintoki from letting out a complete sigh of relief because his former classmate is alive. Takasugi does not wear his fancy intricate-designed _kimonos_ anymore, settling for a simple gray one that looks like what Gintoki used to wear when going to bed. The shorter man’s hair is white as well, just like Gintoki’s, with the strong green in his eye being reduced to a lifeless gray that only shows a sense of resignation and emptiness, no more hatred, no more violent, raging spark.

“There’s no point to revenge when there’s nothing to revenge against.” Takasugi answers. He should be angry, Gintoki thinks, that he didn’t even have to lift a finger for the earth to be destroyed. Not like _this_. “This world is decaying.” _And so am I_ is left unsaid. The hair and the IV and the state of the ship and the emotions – or lack of it – give it all away. Gintoki highly doubts the other can even see clearly at this point. “Besides,” Takasugi’s gaze turns back to the window. “It seems that you’ve done all the work for me.”

Gintoki’s also the one who has done some work on Takasugi himself, but it’s a fact he doesn’t want to relish in, a fact he doesn’t mention aloud. Takasugi isn’t an idiot – he should’ve figured out that much.

“I won’t ask how this happened, because I don’t really care.” He continues. “But I do wonder, how did you find this place?”

“I got some good sources.” By good sources, Gintoki means Tatsuma. It’s amazing how he managed to be able to keep in touch with Takasugi when the others couldn’t. Then again, Tatsuma’s relationship with Takasugi is different from Gintoki’s and Zura’s.

“Pointless ones, at that.” Takasugi remarks. “There is no more use knowing where we are. The Kiheitai are no more.”

“Guess so.” Gintoki agrees. “But while it’s true that men abandon a sinking ship, and only the captain remains,” He continues. “There are still some, apparently, who choose to stay.”

Takasugi chuckles. “I suppose so.”  He considers. “Gintoki, didn’t you have a crew of your own?”

“Yeah.” His voice takes on a softer tone when he thinks of Kagura and Shinpachi. The mere thought or mention of them is enough to let his guard down and set a heavy weight in his heart. “Though it was the captain that abandoned the ship, rather than the crew themselves.”

“And the captain had decided to pay a visit to a sinking ship for what reason?” Takasugi asks, slipping the _kiseru_ into his mouth.

“Who knows?” Gintoki says, instead of giving an actual answer, because truth to be told, he hasn’t figured out why either. It's nice though, he admits, being able to talk to someone so familiar, doing it without worrying so much about getting too close and infecting them, though Gintoki hasn’t even taken a step forward to be nearer. And things are different now, of course. They don’t bicker like they usually though, and they aren’t even face-to-face, but this – _this_ , for Gintoki – is enough. It’s all he needs. Company. He needs company, when he’s been alone for so long, when he’s been suffering in guilt and pain and helplessness for so long. He needs it so much, even if it’s bad. Takasugi isn’t even bad company, just a bad memory he wants to erase. And maybe that statement isn’t even true, if Gintoki had still visited the man despite everything that had happened between them.

Guilt, Gintoki has realized, has played a big part as to why he came here. But it’s also more than that, even more than the desire for company. He misses Takasugi, in the end, as much as he’d hate to admit it, as much as he’d _never_ admit it. And before, even with that thought, Gintoki still wouldn’t do anything. He’d just try to discard it, move on. Now though, it’s different. He doesn’t have those things, those choices anymore.  

Gintoki and Takasugi – they've changed a lot over time. More than the years that went by as they grew up together under Shouyou’s care, more than ten years that went by after the war. It’s hard to believe they were something so great once, when they’ve now been reduced to this. It should be pitiful, for legends to be reduced to mere lost ashes, but Gintoki is not bothered. He doesn’t think Takasugi is either. Good-for-nothings never really cared about that kind of stuff anyway. At least that hadn’t changed.

“I’m sorry.” Gintoki says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. _Sorry for killing sensei, sorry for killing the world, sorry for killing you._

Takasugi laughs dryly. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

Gintoki manages to find the strength to crack a small smile, but he’s already turned his back on Takasugi, about to head for the door to leave. Takasugi has also turned his gaze back towards the window, towards an empty sky and a moon he can barely see. “It’ll be the last too.” He replies. Then he pauses. “Later.” He adds, because he doesn’t know how to say “goodbye” and there’s nothing _good_ in a “goodbye”, and saying “bye” just doesn’t feel right.

“Yeah.” Takasugi says, and his voice turns soft, sincere. “I’m sorry, too.”

 _Sorry for what?_ Gintoki wants to ask; because there are so many things that apology can be meant for. _Sorry for making you carry that sin, sorry for that curse you’ve been given, sorry for your suffering, for you having to watch everyone perish without being able to do anything about it._ It can mean all of those, but none of it, at the same time. But he says nothing more, and walks out. Let things be left unsaid. The message has clearly been conveyed between the two of them, and there is nothing more to do.

_Sorry for this being the last time. Sorry for this being goodbye._

 

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, my theory/headcannon was that Takasugi was one of those who contracted the White Plague as well, though be it due to Gintoki or not, is a mystery even to me. The person Takasugi was based on died of tuberculosis, so that was my idea on what happened to Takasugi during that time. An additional concept is this: Zura dressed up as Takasugi as his way of honoring his old-friend-turned-enemy. Takasugi, in this headcannon of mine, died at some point between the five years Gintoki had disappeared. While I don't know when Zura exactly went "ballistic" and "started spewing teenager bullshit about 'destroying the world'", I'd like to assume that it was after Takasugi's death, which Zura was eventually told of. They may be enemies, and their conflicts were probably never solved in that AU, but Zura is a kind person, and he still treasures his old comrades no matter how bad they've become. 
> 
> But thank you for making it this far!! Here is my [ tumblr](http://gaytropes.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat with me. I'll probably take in requests, too, though that still depends on the plot and the possible relationships present.


End file.
